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Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
I leap across the open field.
I hear them, distant then close.
They stifle my freedom.
Follow me endlessly
To the point of no return.
Do they ever tire?
They chase me all over.

Freedom is all I want.
I search for means of expression.
Release. For these experiences,
These memories, they strangle me.
The only reason I still breathe;
A narrow escape when
Time catches me and drains my life force.

I breathe.
I suffocate.
The immensity of pain weakens.
Then there is nothingness.
I feel them fight while-
I, myself fight against those who chase me.
For freedom for self.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
How can you numb-
A pain so painful?
How can you numb,
What's already torn open?
The center of your soul.
The proof of life.
Yet it's broken.
Already bleeding.
It's not even red.
Blue? I suppose.
No, black! I see.
What creature-
May possess this?
A ******* beast?
Perhaps, a little demon?
A ****** one at that.
A cursed one,  a cast away.
An unfamiliar alien.
Probably misunderstood,
Now the cast away-
Lay under the moon.
Weeping for death,
Death is all that accepts him.
Her? It?
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
Grand is it not
To so suffocate alive-
To drown on the floor?
To feel numbness and pain
Fight each other?
Pain demands to be felt!
Oh-   it knows no bounds.
It plays around your-
Heart and head.
The reason your often
So misled.
It listen to your screams
And peeks through that bathroom door.
Whilst you just lay there-
On the blood-stained floor.

Grand is it not to be
Both dead and alive?
Tell me,  do you see what, goes
On, on my insides?
Do you not see emptiness
In chocolate orbs?
Or is it just me?
I look at glass and that is
What I see. A dead shadow
Staring back at me.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
Deny me not of that-                                                            ­                                                                 ­                   Which we all are entitled.                                                        ­                                                                 ­                         Growth requires so much.                                                            ­                                                                 ­                     Depending on the creature;                                                        ­                                                                 ­                     Plants: sunlight, carbon dioxide, minerals, water.                                                           ­                                       A growing person: love (a little at least), pain (what does it hurt to have some?),                                    Privacy.              ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                      Yet, that-                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                       You deny me repetitively.

No room for self growth.                                                          ­                                                                 ­                         To listen to my own thoughts.                                                        ­                                                                 ­                 Not even a chance to recollect-                                                       ­                                                                 ­                Or counsel myself.                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                       A growing child am I                                                                ­                                                                 ­                             With the least opportunity to be by myself.                                                          ­                                                          

A dictator are you.                                                             ­                                                                 ­                  Breathe, eat, talk up those people.                                                          ­                                                                 ­     Decisions, commands you enforce.                                                         ­                                                                 ­    No choice have I but to follow.                                                          ­                                                                 ­                 Free, I wish to be but                                                              ­                                                                 ­                             Chained I remain. A slave-                                                           ­                                                                 ­                      Your captive, a hopeless soul-                                                            ­                                                                 ­             Waiting to be freed.                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                  Restlessness and anxiety eat,                                                             ­                                                                 ­            Peck, gnaw away at what sanity I have left.                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

What humanity I had left-                                                            ­                                                                 ­                     Has begun to fade. My soul-                                                            ­                                                                 ­       Drifts away to the furthest-                                                        ­                                                                 ­                       Dark abyss. My body, this corpse,                                                          ­                                                                 ­       Will stay as a reminder of what you have done                                                             ­                                          And the error of your ways.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
Dearest mother,

I was never the child you wanted.
I know not what you think.
Forgive me, for I blame myself,
More than you know. Those
Anger filled memories you imposed.
Your statements in wrath. I used
To wonder. Was I good enough?
Is it because you have to stay around,
To take care of me? Or was it the fact that
Your guy messed up every other
Five minutes.

Was it because I was an easy target?
A prey who never fights back. I
Was never the one to want to
Make you despise me. I
Just wanted you to think
Of me as good enough. I -
Write now, to ask this of
You. A few
Questions before I go for good.

What did I ever do to you,
To make you hate me so much?
Was it because of what dad said
Over a thousand times? I know
Those that he said pierce like
Daggers, but why unleash it on me?
Is it because I look like him?
Or my habits remind you so much
Of the good times you shared together?

I won't be able to write to you after this...
My pieces will lay in peace-
Now that I have asked all of
This that stifled me so much.
When you get this letter,
Don't worry your head too much.
How you'll find me? You'll know soon enough.
You can talk to me by my stone.
When reality sinks in sync with concrete.

Love alway from,
Your dearest, most heartbroken child.
I swear I was just thinking and this came to mind.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
She is with you Sir,
But you pummel her so.
It has been five years.
Torturous, agonizing
She is without child.
You know she cries herself to sleep?

For only you and child,
Her heart bleeds.
No longer red
Black blood she bleeds.
Every night you try
She cries, she pleads.
Yet she is without child.

It's safe to say her name
Has changed for love this cannot be.
You made her hatred thick.
A blade she
Takes, she draws in big -
Block. Words. 'SORRY'

I hope she doesn't strike
That vein. May not, she may.
She prays endlessly to Hera.
Her heart is dead,
Her soul is red.
A furnace for her spirit.

Hera take pity on thy soul;
Take this ache away.
Here again you pummel her so.

Bright light and now-
She sits before the King's feet.

On bended knee,
Gabriel by her side.
He dried her eyes.
'Don't cry my child-
For you are now home'
The right side thief
Looked down on she
'You are with The Father, your mother
And father.

Do you now see thou cruel
Sir? You granted her a wish.
Something she never asked you for.
She looks down on you
And now she smiles. Her ex-
Husband, lover, friend has made her happy again.

Do you now see thou cruel
Sir? You shall live in guilt.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
At nine and a half, I was jeered,
But hopeful of the mental matters
At hand. He had left my life
And I wouldn't accept it.
How could a girl's supposed-
Favourite person, just up
And leave?

At twelve-
A little girl at my boss' back
Kept poking whenever I -
Wanted to give up. Hope. Ask
Me where she comes from? I -
Haven't a clue.
At thirteen-
My beater wanted to reject the
Pain. It gnawed its way;
Through her chest, around lungs,
Leaving a little breathlessness.

How painful it is to be-
Suffocating, dying alive.
Alas it sworded her beater;
At fourteen it-
Struck the love out of her.
Realization sat on her brain,
As she surrendered to acceptance.
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